Simple Matters Made Complicated, Abraxin, Outer Rim

It had been some time since she'd been allowed what she considered the luxury of being aboard her own vessel. The Atonement was a second home to her, if not her preferred one; her opinion on the matter often fluctuated depending on how much time she spent on Dolomar. When one was trapped on such a frigid world for the duration of more than a few months at a time, surrounded by paperwork and subordinates who were just as likely to flinch away from one as they were to kiss one's ass, one tended to look for their solace in other places. Space just happened to be that place for Xira.

As she stood before the viewport, her posture as rigid as though she expected an Alliance warship to pull them out of Hyperspace at any moment, she admired the vast expanse of nothing that stretched out before her. The endless black had a tendency to drive some to madness if viewed too long, but for others such as the Grand Admiral, it was like staring into infinity and all the potential happenings within the indefinite time frame. It was not the stars that Xira found impressive, but the possibilities that existed between them, interwoven and interspersed throughout the Galaxy.

The blue tunnel that encased the Atonement continued to pulse and rotate, or seemed to in any event, as it propelled them towards their destination. This particular destination happened to be the swamp-world of Abraxin. While the world held little value in the sense of material trade or even military might for the Confederation, if allied with them it allowed them yet another handhold into the Outer Rim where a good amount of the resistance which fought them originated from. According to their Intelligence sources, the Alliance was currently supporting rebels on the planet, encouraging dissent and anarchy (as, Xira noted, was often their wont to do). The established government of the planet, however, had wisely been trying to support the Confederation for some time now . . . yet their attempts had been repeatedly thwarted.

This was why the Grand Admiral had come. If the Confederation could formulate some sort of agreement or pact with the current government, than they would have the ability to send some of their own soldiers in and perhaps even enforce martial law--temporarily or not depending on how long the resistance lasted. She wagered that it would not last long should the Confederation step in and take an active role in the dealings of the planet. As she was available and experienced in diplomatic negotiations such as this, she had offered to be the one to attend this meeting that had been requested so vehemently (and, as was her understanding, rather desperately as well) by the heads of the Abraxin government. As far as she was concerned, the paperwork back on Dolomar could wait; priority dictated her actions, and it said that this was far more important.

With a warning from one of the captains of her ship, she was notified that they would be entering real space in under a minute. All the better, she believed, since the longer they waited, they more of a foothold the Alliance would establish on the planet. As much as she enjoyed wiping such criminals from the face of a planet, she'd much rather keep that planet stable and in tact for use later on down the line. It was less generosity on the part of the Confederation, and more strategy. One by one the planets in the Outer Rim, no, the entire Galaxy would fall in line . . . It was only a matter of time, truly. Of this, she had no doubt.

This was her opinion especially of late considering the recent death of one of the Alliance's best: one John Wesley Garik Loran. The fact that this happened to be the very planet that his body was found and was presumably where he'd died as well made it that much more important for Xira to visit. There was something peculiar about this planet, and although she wasn't sure just what, she was more than ready to find out.

Giving a languid lurch, the Atonement exited Hyperspace. Immediately, the viewport was filled up by dark greens and browns, the planet of Abraxin. She regarded it with a shrewd gaze, this being her first look at the marsh-covered planet as she had never been here before. Whether it had any importance beyond its position in the Outer Rim would remain to be seen; for now, she would keep an open mind and attempt to look for any benefits beyond its boring and less-than-intimidating appearance. After all, it was said that one couldn't judge a book by its cover, correct?

"Prepare the shuttle, and notify my escort," she ordered in an even tone. "I want to be groundside within the hour."

"Yes, Grand Admiral."

"And inform the Abraxin government that we've arrived. I don't want to be kept waiting."

”Deal me in,” called a pilot, a local boy from the Atonement, of one of the squadrons. Algernon was vaguely familiar with them, due to their squadron being a fairly well known and successful one; they had to be in order to get the esteemed privilege of acting as a starfighter squadron on Grand Admiral Stone’s flagship. The dealer, sitting next to Algy, gave a nod and dealt out the cards for their pazaak game, he flashed Algy a grin, and he returned it.

“Go easy on the kids, Algy,” he murmured. Algy responded with a brief laugh, reaching out for his own cards and throwing a glance at them. The veteran pilot gave a sly grin, giving the man a sidelong glance.

“Of course, Tokrin, don’t I always?” Tokrin scoffed, clearly seeing a cause to doubt in Algy’s statement. A chuckle from the century old pilot indicated that Algy understood Tokrin’s sentiment, but he quickly hushed his amusement to hold out the hand to the newly arrived pilot as he sat down. “Algy Trellian, Renegade Squadron.”

“Thom Vilystre, Lionfish Squadron. You’re from the Renegade’s? They’re not posted on the Atonement,” the young man said, confusion clear for all to see in his manner.

“I lost a bet,” Algy answered without a trace of embarrassment, which was an emotion that would’ve shown on most other pilots’ faces. He was merely too old to let such defeats bother his ego or his mind. “Krushnev managed to beat me in sabaac, the deal was that if he won, I’d take his duties while he enjoys my leave.” He laughed at his own expense, seeing the sympathy in Thom’s eyes. “Don’t worry kid; I didn’t need the leave in the first place. Old Crush has been complaining about his lack of leave for so long, I don’t see a particular loss in letting him have it.” He winked, and the pilots around the table laughed.

“You’ve been chewing the luna-weed again, Algy,” Tokrin said with a laugh, shaking his head. “If I had leave, I’d keep it! Let’s get on with the game, boys!”

Attention turned back to the table and to their cards. Several rounds passed, Algy winning a few turns, in the disappointment of the other pilots, while Tokrin reaped some wins of his own. All pilots felt the Atonement leave hyperspace, the pilots around the table looked around, Tokrin especially on the lookout. As he was the Lionfish’s Squadron Leader, he knew they were bound to be called soon for duty. Algy knew as well, if only because such things tended to be the usual on such missions like this. Their opinion turned out to be correct, as a dull voice came over the comm. channel in the hangar, broadcasting a message that an escort group was to be formed to protect the Grand Admiral on her way to the surface. Tokrin reacted quickly.

“Algy, Thom, Chunb and Fern, you’re on this, get going! It’s a blue milk run; I doubt the Alliance dogs will try anything.” Algy rose without question, heading for Crush’s Interceptor, while the three others put up a little more resistance, wholly against being sent on such a simple mission.

“Come on!” Algy hollered at them. “You’ll never learn anything if you avoid milk runs!”

“Algy’s in charge,” Tokrin added to the two. “He’s got a lot to teach, so you watch and learn.” The three pilots ceased their resisting and made a run for their own Interceptors. Knowing that if they were slow in scrambling the Grand Admiral would have a bone to pick with them. Soon the four Interceptors were out of the magcon field of the hangar, using the Interceptors speed to reach the position of the shuttle carrying the Grand Admiral. Managing to get there just before the shuttle was out of the hangar, they formed up with it, Algy and Thom taking point to either side of it and Chunb and Fern behind, covering the shuttle from all sides.

Algy, glad to be in the cockpit of something other than a Defender for once, kept his eyes flitting between the viewscreen and the sensors, knowing that despite this escort mission being declared a blue milk run, the Alliance tended to do the unexpected, and be equally as slippery in battle. They were good opponents, Algy would give them that, and he held no grudge against them for their insistence on ending his life, it was a part of the job to have someone constantly gunning for you.

“Keep your eyes sharp and your sensors ready,” he ordered, almost sensing the words of the other pilots after he’d issued it. “And never assume the outcome of a mission.”

The Lambda-class T-4a Shuttle was one of the most symbolic ships of the Confederation, second only to the Star Destroyer. But where the capital ships meant conflict, the shuttles were seen as a sign of peace; the capital ships delivered soldiers to destroy, the shuttles ferried negotiators to avoid war. Whereas a Star Destroyer would strike fear, even terror in the hearts of any who saw them, a Lambda-class Shuttle provided a person with a sense of hope, as though the dark and uncertain future could be lightened by the civility and assistance that those within the small ship could bring. At least, this was the general consensus throughout the Galaxy, the Grand Admiral's own opinion notwithstanding as Xira often found more comfort in seeing such a powerful ship as a Star Destroyer opposed to a miniature passenger shuttle--what she understood that most did not was that it ofttimes took a firm fist rather than a pacifistic handshake to solve a problem in such turbulent times as these.

After entering the shuttle, Xira took her seat behind the pilot. It was not uncommon for her to feel a moderate sense of unease when having to rely on a subordinate instead of her own skills and abilities especially when it came to Naval-related duties such as piloting. As familiar as she was with every person who served in such close proximity to her (for example, any and all aboard the Atonement had been personally reviewed and approved by the Grand Admiral), she followed the age-old belief that if one wanted to get something done right, one had to do it themselves. Still, at times there was nothing to be helped, and she was not arrogant enough to believe that she could do it all; part of being in the military was learning to rely on one's fellows, and while it hadn't been a difficult lesson to initially learn and obey, she still found it troubled her at times to have to put her faith in another's abilities.

With a gentle gait, the shuttle rose and then exited the hangar's field into the empty space that separated the Atonement from Abraxin's atmosphere. In positions to the shuttle's front, flanks, and behind were positioned the four Interceptors that would serve as escorts in the short journey to and then from the planet. The Lionfish squadron was supposed to be one of the best of the best, and Xira was confident that they'd get the job done provided that nothing happened in the minute duration that it would take going and coming. If anything did happen, then it might prove to be a different story. Here in such a nigh defenseless shuttle, she would just have to trust in her subordinates abilities; she would not be given much of another option in such a circumstance.

Nrghrr, who appeared much more ill at ease than his mistress, remained completely still, tense, and waiting in his own seat which the Togorian seemed much too large for. The creature's fur seemed to stand on end as he kept his shining eyes centered on the viewport in front. Such silence and suspicion was not uncommon behaviour coming from her bodyguard, and although it had in fact saved her on numerous occasions, she normally would not have paid it much heed, but Xira found that she shared in such feelings at present. It was as though her intuitive senses knew some foul trouble to be stirring in relation to her arrival. Cautious, she would have to be, ever so cautious and watchful as well.

But even as she thought this, she felt as though something was already wrong beyond avoidance or repair. The planet now completely filled the viewport, and then was soon replaced by white fog so thick that it looked as though the viewport had merely been a painting before and was now wiped clean away. A few moments passed, and then yet again the view changed back to the earthy colours of Abraxin, of the swamps and marshes that covered the majority of the planet. The main city appeared in the near distance.

Suddenly alarms began to whistle warnings, though it was too late. The first rocket impacted the air just shy of where they had just been, causing a jolt to the shuttle. Its occupants were rocked back and forth violently as more rockets were fired from groundside. If it hadn't been for the belts of the shuttle, it was likely that all within would have been thrown about as the shuttle attempted evasive maneuvers. While the pilot focused on avoiding more of the anti-aircraft missiles, he also kept in contact with the escorts who were doing their best to shield the shuttle or take out what they'd determined to be Wookiee Dual Launchers on the swampy surface. The co-pilot continued to try and contact the governmental leaders of the Abraxin capital for assistance, but it was in vain.

Her Togorian counterpart appeared absolutely agitated, being incapable to do anything to protect his mistress in this particular predicament. Xira herself remained calm, knowing that to panic would do little to make this situation any better. She allowed herself a frown to show her displeasure of this disruption, but not for one moment did she believe that this would be how her end came. No, there was far too much still to be done. And if she should die, it would be in such a manner that would do the Confederation good, not ill.

As the shuttle was thrown back and forth by continued fire, she could only place her hope in her escorts. Her eyes narrowed with frustration as she caught a glance of the city, still too far off in the distance. Yes, it would be up to Lionfish squadron now as to whether or not they would reach their destination alive.

The four fighters followed the shuttle into the atmosphere of Abraxin, Algy keeping up his vigilance, feeling a peculiar itch that he couldn’t scratch. Something was going on, but he couldn’t for the life of him tell what it was. As they descended, the planet surface of Abraxin below, they encountered a curtain of clouds, and Algy reflected over the fact that in previous times, pilots in such conditions would be flying blind, but now they had all the fancy gadgets modern life permitted them. He still thought it held an element of blindness to it, sensors didn’t pick up everything, he preferred being able to see things with his eyes, knowing that no error in the computer could influence his own sight. Technology was so easy to manipulate, he’d learned that.

The party shot out of the clouds soon, leaving all the pilots with clear views of the country down below. Algy gave the nature of the planet a critical sweep. Being educated in what he was, he knew perfectly well what would await anyone who wandered the marshes, both of plants and creatures. Marshland had always been an interesting subject, the creatures that could inhabit it almost endless, and the plants unique, but all plants found ways of living in the most extraordinary of conditions. Algy deviated slightly from his course, wanting to see the country below the shuttle. The sensors wouldn’t pick up attackers from the surface, so his eyes were all to help him here. Rebels were quite good at masking their positions in treacherous terrain such as the marshland they found themselves above, though, which meant this was the point where they would be expecting an attack.

He saw the flash of the rocket launcher going off rather than the person holding it and reacting with such speed as was usual in a long time veteran such as him, he flicked the comm. unit on the shuttles frequency quickly. “Evasive manoeuvres!” He commanded. “Rocket launcher below your position!” The shuttle reacted, but they were unable to avoid the rockets impact. It hit the shields, but the shuttle couldn’t keep getting hit if it were to land safely. Quickly, he did a steep dive, zooming down towards the surface below them as he simultaneously gave his commands to the rest of the flight. “Get those rockets away from the shuttle!”

Pulling up from the dive, he did a quick flyby of the place where he’d seen the flash go off, and saw as clear as day two pale faces peering up at him. His lips curled into a snarl as he zoomed quickly upwards, crisply telling the others the location of the rocket launcher. He’d recognised them as Wookiee Dual Launchers and knew it would be best to take them out as quickly as he could, before they got the shuttle. Turning to dive down again, he positioned himself directly in the path of the rockets launchers aim, making sure that if it hit anything it would hit his shields. He strafed their position, gaining a half-hit to his shields and they lowered to a dangerous level. Again he zoomed up to avoid further hits to his shields, but knew the rockets were still intact.

More rockets were fired at the shuttle, and Fern swept up in their path, both rockets scoring direct hits and turning the Interceptor into slag. With a snarl, Algy viciously flung his Interceptor around almost in the position it was, shooting downwards towards the rocket launchers, his laser cannons ripping up the ground as he dived. Two rockets were shot up at him and he adjusted his course slightly, the first didn’t hit him, but exploded right by him, the shield resisting just enough to let Algy keep his life, but not enough to spare the fighter. The fighter fell below the second rockets trajectory, and it continued on to impact with the shuttles hull in a massive explosion, taking out the engines. Algy quickly engaged his repulsorlifts, the technology working enough as to prevent him from falling like a rock from the skies. He was unable to see the fate of the shuttle, as he carefully manoeuvred the damaged starfighter to land on the seemingly only solid piece of land in the general area he found himself in. He had no desire to sink into the marshland and become a permanent resident.

Conner would be most unhappy.

At this rate, Xira was surprised that she didn't have whiplash yet from all the jostling that was going on as a result of their shuttle continually being tossed to and fro. With the progression of the situation seeming to go from bad to worse, the Grand Admiral did her best to maintain a level head even amidst such chaos. This was something of a trademark for her as her cool demeanour even under the most strenuous of circumstances had led to many victories of varying kinds. Today, she would constitute a victory as surviving.

"There," she said, leaning forward as far as her restraints would allow. "It's a small clearing, it should be enough to make an emergency landing."

The pilot nearly had to squint to see what place she was referring to, and once he had located it, he shook his head with dismay. "With all due respect, Grand Admiral, it's too small," he told her, beginning to sweat as he struggled to keep the shuttle under control as another blast nearby rocketed it once more. "It can't be done."

"It wasn't a suggestion, Captain," Xira said in a biting tone. "Unless you intend on disobeying a direct order, land the ship. Now."

Despite disagreeing with the Grand Admiral on her idea, the man knew better than to argue with her. If they survived this, the last thing he wanted was to be court martialed upon getting back to Dolomar. And as he assessed the situation, the likelihood of making it to the city decreased more and more; it seemed as though there was now little other choice but to make an emergency landing. It was either that or get shot out of the sky entirely.

Just then, however, their engines were taken out and soon they were falling. So much for the escorts, Xira mused darkly even as she gripped the armrests of her seat and prepared for impact. There would be no emergency landing now, only a crash landing. If Xira believed in luck--which she did not--she would have believed that they'd been cursed with poor fortune . . . but she knew that this was the work of the on-planet rebels, not some ethereal force of nature. Getting on the ground without exploding into a ball of fire, though, that might take more than just sheer skill; she hoped that she'd picked a proper pilot.

There was little left that the pilot could do, in any event, which she also knew. They were nearly free-falling, and it was due to the spontaneous maneuvering by the pilot that allowed them to dodge several more shots as they descended with dangerous speed. Soon, they were out of range of the enemies' weaponry, but their foe gravity was still pressing down hard on them.

"Collision in under ten," the pilot warned. "Brace for impact!"

Ten seconds seemed to come and go, and for a second and a half afterwards Xira wondered if some miracle had taken place to spare them the act of crash landing. Then they crashed, and her consciousness wasn't spared in the event. Her vision was suddenly yet not unexpectedly consumed by darkness as the world around her disappeared in a flash.

There were few things that were more disconcerting than awakening from a near-death experience. Especially when death had seemed so imminent. It was a transition that seemed as sudden as being born into the world, if not as violent. Having passed through darkness into light, it took a few moments for Xira to recall what had just happened. They had crashed, and that fact kept circulating within her thoughts, not connecting to the fact that she was staring upwards at the canopy of a great mossy tree. The environment was as incomprehensible to her as the fact that she was alive when she probably shouldn't have been. Not that she was complaining.

Blinking a few times, her eyes adjusted to the strange light of the place, and she sat up, touching a hand to her forehead. Feeling a sticky substance there, she pulled her hand back and stared at the red now covering it. She returned her hand to her head to put pressure on whatever wound was there, wincing only a little as she did so.

"Mistress," came a familiar voice. "You are awake."

Xira's gaze shifted to the Togorian kneeling next to her. "How long have I been unconscious?" she asked in a tone that demanded only the facts.

"Less than an hour," Nrghrr informed. "You were unconscious when I pulled you from the wreckage."

The word wreckage prompted her to turn her head and look back at the smoldering junk that had previously been a shiny, new Lambda-class T-4a shuttle.

"Any other survivors?"

"No. The impact killed both the pilot and co-pilot."

"And communications?"

Nrghrr shook his head, his fur bristling as a sign of his frustration. "Destroyed during the impact as well."

A frown creased Xira's face as she struggled to her feet. With a brevity befitting the situation, she assessed the damage of her own person. Aside from her head wound which she couldn't properly assess without medical equipment (or at least a mirror of some sorts), the rest of her body was feeling rather beaten up and she had no doubt that she'd bruised at least a rib or two. She also discovered a limp in her right leg that while it would hinder her some, it wouldn't cripple her in any way. Considering the fates of her fellows, her condition seemed nothing short of miraculous. Then again, Nrghrr appeared rather well off as well, and she wondered if their position in the shuttle had shielded them from the initial impact. Whatever the case, she was thankful nonetheless to be alive at all.

"We can't stay here for much longer," she told her companion. "Whoever shot us down are going to want to make sure that they've finished the job. I do not want to be around when they come looking."

"What if there are survivors from the squadron?"

A valid question, but one whose answer left a bitter taste in Xira's mouth. Or maybe that was just the blood. "If there are any survivors, it's likely that they will have the same idea as us. Our best, and as far as I can see our only option is to make our way towards the capital where we can then establish communication with the Atonement and update Dolomar on our situation. But for now, we must keep on the move. They already have just shy of an hour or so on us."

Climbing out of the cockpit of the now useless Interceptor, Algy pulled off the helmet and discarded it in the seat of the Interceptor, unwilling to drag it around, then he dropped onto the soft ground on both feet, keen eyes sweeping over his surroundings and taking in the scene above. He saw the shuttle careening towards the ground and rockets still being fired, this time focused at the fighters still standing. A rocket hit one Interceptor, Chunb’s if he was seeing the markings correct. The nimble fighter smoked and the course became erratic, Algy couldn’t see if the controls were out or if Chunb had been wounded, but with Thom still flying, he knew the others would be aware of the disaster soon. Thom made a run for it, heading back to the Atonement for help.

Algy made note of the course and bearing of the shuttle, watching it as long as he could to see where it would land. While heading to the city would be the best course of action, he knew the crash would be a nasty one. A nagging sense of duty told him to pursue the wreck. His hands making sure his pistol was where it was supposed to be, he headed out at a jog, swiftly covering ground but keeping his guard up, knowing that any noise he was making could alert creatures and sentient beings alike.

When he was sure he was getting closer to the wreck site, he knew something close to an hour had passed, and he’d been going in the opposite direction than he should’ve gone, away from civilisation rather than towards it. His pace slowed down and he fell into a quieter pace, his hand going to his .48 as he tried to peer through the thick flora that he’d been pushing aside in his advance. The smell the air carried was a familiar one from the many crashes he’d participated in and evaluated, it confirmed that he was close to his objective, unless he’d come upon one of the downed fighters.

Peering through the plant life, he managed to spot two figures in the clearing, a few metres away from the wreck site. One was a Togorian, clearly, which Algy would for now presume was the body guard Grand Admiral Stone liked dragging around, while the human, a woman judging by the build, was most likely Grand Admiral Stone herself, if the Togorian’s protective manner told him anything. He was about to relax, but then spotted something at the far side of the clearing, something the Togorian and Grand Admiral weren’t aware of yet. Another face was peering out of the brushes, and as Algy could see the combat helmet the individual was wearing, he knew it was not a downed pilot like him.

Thinking quickly, he broke his cover with a yell, pulling his pistol free of the holster and sprinting over the ground. Stopping by the Grand Admiral, he fired two shots in quick succession, but withheld any more shots. The Enforcer was a pistol that packed a punch, but it had several drawbacks compared to an ordinary blaster. He saw one bullet hit the rebel in the shoulder, throwing the person backwards, the blaster weapon the rebel was holding flying out of his hand. The second hit another rebel behind the one he’d seen initially, pure luck on all accounts.

Due to the feline's heightened senses, Nrghrr sensed the danger faster than Xira but neither were able to react and, fortunately, didn't need to as one of their own appeared out of the foilage to come to their aid. As the pilot (obvious by the way he was dressed) fired several shots at an enemy or enemies that they couldn't see, the Togorian bodyguard stepped in front of his mistress in order to shield her from any potential shots, stray or otherwise. There was certainly something to be said for the creature's loyalty to its master, putting her safety above his own. But as Xira was still armed (thanks to her own preparations; she rarely went anywhere with at least one WESTAR-34 blaster pistol strapped to her thigh), she slid her own weapon out of its holster, covering her allies' flank.

As soon as the man had ceased firing, silence filled the air once more, soon followed by nature's own song as the unseen occupants of the swampy land relaxed. The Grand Admiral of the Confederation remained tense, keeping her weapon level as she stepped out of the protective shadow of her bodyguard in order to review the newcomer as well as the now-wounded men. Far as she could tell, none of the shots had been fatal, but they had been crippling; the hunters had now become they prey, and hopefully the prey would have some worthwhile information.

But first thing was first, she needed to identify just who their saviour was . . . and whether he was such at all. His attire was distinctly Confederation, specific to their well-trained pilots, but she didn't remember him being a part of Lionfish squadron. It was possible that he was a last minute substitute for another man, especially given how quickly things had been set into motion once it was decided that she would be going to Abraxin. Even then, she would have been informed of the change, and would have needed to clear it. Her mind was still foggy from the crash, or a possible concussion should she have one, and it was perhaps likely that she just didn't remember him or when she had approved of his coming aboard the Atonement.

After just a few moments of thought, in conjunction with looking over his appearance, however, and a name sprung to mind, setting her at ease.

Her pistol remained in her hand, but it lowered to her side as she approached the wounded soldiers alongside her subordinate. "Algernon Trellian, isn't it?" she said, almost off-handedly as though it wasn't important. To an extent, this was probably true as introductions weren't exactly a top priority at present. "I've heard a lot about you. I'm glad to see that the reputation was well-earned, after all." This was likely as close to a thank you as Trellian would get at present; in Xira's mind, if he and the other escorts had been better, they wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. That was neither here nor there, though.

Nrghrr hovered behind the Grand Admiral like a dark spectre, glaring down at the two men whom had been spying on them and, likely, had meant to kill them. The one man whom Trellian had shot in in the shoulder was howling like a Kashyyyk Tach, while the other one whom had been shot in the hip only grimaced and glared and alternated between the two, occasionally spitting a word coated in loathing at them.

"Scouts, I should think," Xira remarked, only a hint of her full displeasure showing in her expression. She knelt down next to the man whom wasn't currently crying out so obnoxiously, but she spoke to both of them in an icy tone that implied that she did not want to be messed with further today. "Perhaps you don't know who I am, and perhaps you don't know what you've done, but regardless of whether that is the case or not, it is in your best interests to cooperate with us. If you do, your lives may be spared. If you do not, well, let us say that the alternative will certainly not be pleasant for either of you.

"So tell me, how many of you are there? And what do you hope to accomplish by allying with the Alliance? By allying with them, you are only inviting war to Abraxin if not utter anarchy, surely you know this."

((How do the men respond to Xira's inquiries?))

(( The man with the wounded shoulder continues to whine, grasping at the gaping hole the Fish had created. His partner seems to ignore the first question, preferring to inform the Grand Admiral, in not the nicest of ways, how together with the Alliance they would see the Confederation crumble, and monsters like her dealt with in the same inhuman way as the Fish treated their enemies. He doesn't care about the chaos he and his colleagues create, nor the deaths that would be brought upon many of them, just so long as they expelled their ruthless invaders. ))

"Algernon Trellian, isn't it?"

Algy’s attention turned to the woman he now could confirm was Grand Admiral Stone. Hers was a face that was familiar to all in the Confederation, unless they lived with their head down a hole. He inclined his head towards the woman slightly. “Yes, ma’am.” It was all he was planning on saying at this moment, no doubt the Grand Admiral was harbouring thoughts of how incompetent the escort had been. Considering they’d been attacked from below with rocket launchers, and that the Grand Admiral had been stupid enough to attempt to go down to the surface in an unarmed shuttle on a planet they knew had Alliance presence, there hadn’t been much the fighters could do other than swarm around like confused bees and try to get the target, they’d even sacrificed their own lives to keep the shuttle going. Going in between a rocket and its target on purpose wasn’t exactly considered something you did every day. Fern and Chunb had gone down doing their duty, and Algy would make sure their deaths weren’t for nothing, even if he had to endure another arrogant Confederation brass.

“I'm glad to see that the reputation was well-earned, after all."

A wry smile flitted over his face at her words as he recognised the usual pattern for a Confederation officer. Somehow ‘thank you’ wasn’t a term in their vocabularies, but he’d never called one of them out on it. To him being thanked mattered little, he was too old to cling to compliments such as that, for him he felt he was merely doing his duty, but he made a point of delivering out thanks to those who had made them worthy of it. He hoped that one day he might convert a few Confederation officers to go about their business with more respect to their subordinates, as of yet, he’d not converted a single officer. He’d made a few of them laugh, however.

"Scouts, I should think,"

He found no room to disagree with that statement, for their light attire and weapons indicated that they weren’t there for any large work. The lack of a rocket launcher informed Algy that they weren’t the rebels they’d encountered earlier, unless they’d gone somewhere and dropped it, which was unlikely, as they’d feel safer with it along and it was too valuable to dump somewhere in the marshland. Their intentions would be roughly the same as their previous attackers, however.

As she started her interrogation, Algy’s eyebrows raised slightly at her tone and manner of speaking as well as the lot of assumptions she was throwing in there. He remained silent however, this was most likely the method of interrogation she preferred, establishing her importance to then give them the few options they had to choose from, tell us or die. A slight frown crossed his features when the rebels refused to give any information that made much sense to them.

“I don’t think he’s with the Alliance,” Algy spoke up. “By the way he refers to the Alliance as a separate entity I’d think it’s safe to assume he’s in the Abraxin rebel group. Judging by the way he’s equipped he won’t be of any importance to them. It’s likely he knows of a local depot or cell.” He gestured towards the man shot in the shoulder, still howling. “Since he’s still yowling about that wound, I’d say they’re as green as goblin moss, fairly new to this business.”

Algy stepped closer to the two shot men, helping the one who had been shot in the hip to sit up and leaning him against a small boulder, he did the same to the one shot in the shoulder, slapping the man a few times on the cheeks to make him snap out of his howling. He placed a hand on the unwounded shoulder of the rebel, looking at both of them who were staring at him with resentment.

“Look, you two have family, don’t you?” The one with the wound in his shoulder nodded meekly, seemingly more receptive to what Algy had to say, while the other one merely stared hatefully at him, muttering something scathing about how it wasn’t any of his business. “I’ve heard how they crack down on known rebels here.” The younger of the two, with the shoulder wound, looked slightly ill. “Don’t let them suffer for your mistakes, now tell the lady what she wants to know and you can go back home.” Algy smiled at them both, seeing that the younger one almost looked like he was going to say something.

((Do they share any information at all?))

(( There's a long silence, the man with the hip wound pinning a venomous stare at the Confederates still. However, he's incredibly surprised to hear his colleague speak up. His voice is full of youth and fear as he spluttered the information. He only knew of a couple of dozen of them, all meeting one of the real resistance members who coordinated and trained them, handing over the appropriate weaponry for the tasks they carried out. Neither of them were high rankers, both coming from the village two miles from their current position. They don't know where the resistance member is though; he only appeared when they had meetings. Wincing from the pain he takes a handful of Algy's clothes, begging him not to harm his family, or the other villagers. He looks close to fainting from his wound, and his face is covered in sweat. ))

Xira supposed that she shouldn't have been surprised by the response that she received. Rebels were all the same, no matter the cause that they fought for. It was a rarity to find someone of intelligence amongst a group of fanatics; this was most painfully apparent in situations of resistance, when people chose to go against a superiour force. It was not bravery, only cowardice of change, or ignorance of the inevitable. In her opinion, dying for a cause was easy. It was living for it, struggling to see it succeed, defending it against difficulty during times of strife, and distinguishing the difference between a time of action and a time of complacency that was what was hard. Anyone could die; only the strong could survive.

“. . .Since he’s still yowling about that wound, I’d say they’re as green as goblin moss, fairly new to this business.”

She glanced between her subordinate and their prisoners, then gave a nod in agreement. Trellian was right; these men likely knew very little considering how new they were to the resistance (this fairly obvious given how easily they'd been spotted and downed), so fortunately for them, that ruled out torture as it would accomplish little except for wasting their time. It was certainly unfortunate, as the Grand Admiral would have liked to have discovered a bit more about the locations of some resistance depots and whatnot, but anything that these two had to tell would hardly be worth the time it took them to get it out of them. Already, they were wasting valuable travel time staying here; keeping on the move would be best at this point.

Without interrupting him, Xira watched as Trellian moved to the men and spoke to them. Perhaps he could get information where she could not; it certainly wouldn't surprise her as she knew that she wasn't one for being sociable or for interacting well with others; this helped her in the interrogations back on Dolomar, and with maintaining the leadership role that she had, but it wasn't exactly suited for the field. Part of being a good leader was knowing one's faults, and Xira wasn't blind to her own even though she did her best to hide them from her subordinates and anyone else for that matter.

“Don’t let them suffer for your mistakes, now tell the lady what she wants to know and you can go back home.”

If Trellian was like any of the more idealistic of Confederate soldiers, Xira knew that he would consider this as good as a promise. The whole 'his word being his bond' sort of situation. Depending on whether they spilled any information or not, the Grand Admiral would consider honouring the man's words. Nrghrr behind her looked as though he'd rather just kill them and be done with it and, truth be told, Xira wasn't sure if that wasn't the right move here. But she would wait, hear what they had to reveal, and then pass her own judgement on what was to be done with the two troublemaking scouts.

Lucky for them, the more frightened one decided to elaborate on all he knew. By the desperation and fear in his tone, if not the entirety of his body language and that of his glaring, shocked colleague's, she knew that he was not lying. Trellian had been successful in getting them to reveal what they knew, and that was a step in the right direction, at least. After confessing his knowledge, none of it which was particularly helpful, the man resorted to begging them not to harm his family, or his village. Had he been Alliance, Xira doubted that she'd have given much thought to sparing their lives (such vile, misbehaving dogs deserved to be put down), but since they were not, she seriously considered letting them go.

Standing once more, not as straight as normal due to her wounds, she glanced towards the sky and then the direction that she believed the city to be in. The fate of the village that had housed the Alliance sympathizers would have to wait until they reached the capital; right now, reaching the heads of the Abraxin government was their top priority. As for these lowly peons whom had fallen into the wrong crowd . . .

"You're free to go," Xira told them, her tone less severe than before. She'd decided to honour the pact that Trellian had made. Never could it be said that the Confederation was not merciful. "Return to your village, but make note that if you cross the Confederation again in any way, including continuing your connections to the Alliance, we shall not be as lenient."

She turned to Trellian. "It's time we left." And on that note, with Nrghrr on her heels, she headed off in the direction of the capital. Hopefully, it wasn't as far as she feared it was, and they would be able to reach it before dark. The prospect of being stuck in a swamp infested with all manner of creatures and rebels in the middle of the night was not appealing to the Grand Admiral. Not in the least.

Algy was glad that the boy had given up his secrets without further ado, for he had no wish for the two youngsters to fall into the hands of Stone’s vicious bodyguard, who looked simply vicious where he stood, looming over them where they sat on the ground. The lad proved his newness to this game by pleading with Algy, and the older man tried to assure the kid that his family would be alright, flimsy promises on all accounts as he held no power whatsoever in this situation. If the Grand Admiral wanted to plant a bullet in their brainpan she’d do it without hesitating. His hands wrapped around the youngsters, gently prying the vicelike grip off the front of his clothes so that he could step away, partly because he knew Stone would want to get going, not soothe the enemy and partly because he didn’t want to get his flightsuit splattered with blood if Stone decided to play the part of ruthless Grand Admiral.

“Relax kid, you’ll be alright.”

"You're free to go,"

The youngster looked near to fainting out of relief at Stone’s words, an understandable reaction, as the Confederation’s tendency to eliminate all opposition, even surrendered opposition, was well known in most rebel circuits. Algy was glad that he hadn’t ended up lying to the kid, giving a gentle pat on the shoulder as he flashed a smile to the wounded rebel. The other who had been a bit more resistant to their interrogations seemed to relax as well, but Algy knew he wouldn’t stop doing what he did. Beliefs were hard to extinguish, it was something he saw everywhere in the century he’d lived.

“... we shall not be as lenient."

The older of the two shifted slightly, wincing from his wound. He muttered something that only Algy and the youngster caught, the kid looked slightly worried, but Algy merely flashed the man a thoroughly amused grin. It was for the best that neither Stone or the bodyguard heard the rebel’s words, for the Grand Admiral would no doubt rethink her decision to let them have their freedom instead of killing them.

"It's time we left."

Algy glanced back at the Grand Admiral and her bodyguard, seeing that they were leaving. Quickly, he pulled a medpack out of his flightsuit pocket, handing it to the older of the rebels. “Patch yourselves up, it’ll be difficult to get back to your village without some help.” Both rebels looked thankful for the little bit of relief Algy was offering them, and they took the pack eagerly and started picking out the equipment they needed from it. Their relief from receiving the little medpack from him was in copious amounts, and they both whispered thanks as he rose to his feet.

With a small inclination of his head towards the men he’d shot, he picked up the pace and broke into a run, aiming to catch up with the two others before they left the perimeter of the clearing the crash site was by. When he reached them, she slowed down just by the Grand Admiral. “It’d be best if I took point, I have some knowledge of traversing swamps, if you’ll allow me,” he intoned and then increased his pace so that he was a few feet in front of the two, just in time to enter the thicker areas of the swamp they found themselves in.

Swamps were a wetland featuring temporary or permanent flooding of large areas of land, often by shallow bodies of water. The swamp on Abraxin was like most normal swamps, it had a substantial number of dense stands of hardwood trees that grew on the natural rises, only a few inches higher than the surrounding area, and a few dry-land protrusions, covered by plants that had adapted to living in and on the aquatic environment of the Abraxin swamps. Algy carefully led the Grand Admiral and her bodyguard through the best paths he saw, avoiding the deep waters in favour for the shallow waters or solid land when available. It was slow going, due to the thick vegetation and the water hindering their progress, but they were going quicker than someone unfamiliar with the swamps. Algy merely hoped they wouldn’t run into the more vicious creatures of the swamps, for up to now he’d merely seen the usual lizard variety as well as insects.

((Does anything come upon them as they trek onwards to the capital?))

(( Nothing comes out to attack them directly, but there is an ominous feeling in the air. The animals that usually scurried from tree to tree, or waded through the dense water of the swamp are missing, and there's a heavy silence in the air. There's no denying it, everyone has left the area for some reason or another.

Reaching two bridges of solid land, weaving past the huge pools of sodden earth the group can feel an obviously bad presence down one of them. There's no proof to back up the gut feeling, but it's pretty strong. ))

“It’d be best if I took point, I have some knowledge of traversing swamps, if you’ll allow me.”

"By all means, Flight Lieutenant," she said, allowing him to pass as had been his wont to do. Nrghrr didn't look all that happy at being passed by a man who was only about half his size, but since Xira had given him permission for point, the Togorian went along with things without uttering a single growl or complaint. In his time serving beneath the good Grand Admiral, he'd learned that arguing was pointless, and he'd rarely come up against a time in which he disagreed with whatever decision his mistress had made.

The swamp was difficult enough to navigate with its overgrowth of foliage, but became even more troublesome from the potholes that were hidden by mud in some instances and grass in other places. Its general unpleasantness was only increased by the insects that buzzed around with the intent of drawing blood or some other type of bodily fluid, or perhaps their purpose was merely to be annoying to any outsiders who happened to have the misfortune of passing through the swamp. By the rough landscape alone, Xira would have had a bit of a time to traverse on a good day, but combined with her injuries and it became something akin to a nightmare, though not quite. She wasn't sure if it was better the paperwork back home, but it wasn't worse either.

Trellian seemed to be almost familiar with the lay of the land, and led them safely enough through the thick of things. There was only one instance in which they were traveling through the murky waters--if such thick liquid as the swamp's could be considered water at all, so perverted by muck was it--that it suddenly tapered off, becoming steep and deep, where had it not been for Nrghrr pulling her back at the last moment, she surely would have gone underneath the surface of the bog. The very thought did not sit well with her, as already she was soaked from the waist down. It would take at least several washes to get the stench out of her clothes, not to say anything about the skin which the foul water came in contact with.

Still, they were making good time, and the possibility of reaching the capital before nightfall was seeming less of an 'unlikely' and more of a probability. If they managed to reach the main city of Abraxin, she would not need to consider this mission a failure; once there, negotiations would be able to take place as planned, and success could be measured from there. So far, this whole thing had been rather botched, but that was no one's fault save for those blasted rebels who had seen fit to throw a proverbial wrench into their plans. And they would get exactly what was long in coming to them as soon as the deal between the Confederation and the Abraxin government was established, she would see to it.

As Xira was not the sociable type, she saw nothing wrong with the silence that covered the group as they trekked towards their destination. But, increasingly, a feeling settled in the pit of her stomach that she recognized as her intuition warning her that something was wrong. As she thought on the silence once more, she realized that there was something unnatural to it. They were in the middle of a natural habitat, yet there was no sound, movement, anything. It was as though a stillness as heavy and frigid as death had settled over the entirety of the surrounding environment, like the swamp around them was holding its breath to wait and see what would happen.

Her hand fell to her holstered weapon, she slid it out and kept it at the ready. The Grand Admiral looked to her fellow Confederate to see if he noticed anything amiss as well. Even if he didn't, that meant little more than that she was more observant or sensitive to such changes than him. Xira had learned long ago not to ignore what constituted as a 'gut feeling', and hers was certainly trying to tell her something, though she wasn't sure what. But being prepared for the unexpected was one of the first things that was taught to a soldier during basic training, and it was a lesson that stuck with them for the rest of their life. The Grand Admiral certainly hadn't forgotten it.

The slightest movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, it being out of the ordinary in the bizarrely still surroundings. She whirled around just in time to see the creature moving methodically towards them, but when it saw that it had been caught it broke into a run towards the group. It was obvious that the creature was not friendly by the gruesome growls that it issued as it headed towards them, hunger in its red eyes. Xira didn't have the time to ponder what sort of creature it was as she let loose several well-aimed shots near the top of the creature or what she assumed to be the head which was set between its shoulders, giving it a distinctly 'headless' look.

"Trellian!" she yelled out, alerting the man if her shots hadn't already. Just as she discharged several more blaster bolts into the creature, she noticed another one in the near distance, and a third off to her right.

It was a hunting pack.

And they were to be the prey, but not if she had anything to say about it.

((Do any of Xira's shots hit the Marsh Haunt? If so, do the shots do any damage?))

(( Two of the Grand Admirals shots impact with the beast, striking its shoulder and chest. Obviously the beast is effected by the pain, but its attack approach doesn't change. It continues on, charging right up to the Confederate officer to attempt to strike her down with its strong arm.

It soon becomes evident the beasts had been leading them into a trap as one Marsh Haunt emerges a few feet away from Algy, launching itself towards him in a similar fashion to Xira's.

There are six in all, the majority of them coming from one direction, since the group had managed to discover the trap before wandering into it. Had they continued their deaths would have been certain, that much is clear from the Haunts hiding spots. They all charge the group, hoping to get close and strike them with their powerful arms, emitting a feeling of dread as they did so. ))